


You Know

by buttday



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:02:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttday/pseuds/buttday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know what you have to do, <i>and it hurts you,</i> doesn’t it?</p><p>[rewrite of suoh and munakata's final encounters in eps 10-13]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to try to write in second point of view whats anyone gonna do about it im lame like that this is kinda long i had too much dialogue with reisi oops

You know he would come.

You’ve been waiting.

You thought by a fluke that staring at plants as they’re slowly covered in snow would pass the time, but it’s barely any interest for someone like you. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a head of thick red hair. _Ah, that’s a better object of interest for someone like you._ You turn and look at him.

He greets you with a smirk— No, as if he’s happy to see you, he greets you with a smile. In spite of this, the words that come after are no surprise. “I thought breathing the same air as me makes you nauseous,” he says, tone languid as always, almost mocking. It _is_ mocking.

You can’t help a smile of your own as you reply almost instantly. “Sometimes I feel like breathing toxic air.” As if to prove your point even if both of you have comprehended well enough that it's his presence you refer to as the virulence, you bring out your pack of cigarettes. You take one in between your teeth and offer another one to him.

He appears reluctant because of something or another, but when you insist with a small nudge at the air right in front of him, he receives it in his fingers no matter how close to his mouth you held it, and the smile takes its place on his face again.

As you’re searching your coat for your lighter, he strides the area beside you and flicks his wrist, causing a small burst of his aura to light your smoke before his own. He smirks as he passes you.

You follow him with a small smile which fades as he takes to one of the steps on the concrete stairs where you waited. A frown, or whatever that bored look is supposed to be, graces his features as he lights his own smoke with a flick of his thumb.

You would stare at him for a bit, dawdle for as long as you like, you think, but you remember just what you need to talk to him about. So you say, “I will be very direct.”

This catches enough of his attention that his brow slightly raises. You know he’s listening.

You watch the small cloud of vapor dissolving from the end of your cigarette while you hold it in your fingers. You order, “Relinquish this school peacefully. I cannot overlook the way you are involving innocent high school students.”

He eyes you, and you’re glad you spare him a glance, because he’s really listening.

"If you comply now, this can be settled before things get out of hand," you finish.

"That’s a fine idea," he answers.

Before you can be surprised at that kind of response, as you should be, given that he would never submit to anyone, submit to _you_ that easily, he averts his eyes.

He adds this question he needs no answer to. “Is that what you were expecting me to say?”

"It’s not an idea, it’s an ultimatum," you correct. "You have gone too far, Suoh. That being the case, allow me to slay Totsuka Tatara’s murderer, the man who calls himself the Colorless King."

You wonder if you can say that by the way he’s looking at you with that air, he would at least consider it.

So you keep going. “If you consent to that, I shall execute him in any way you wish.”

You know he was ready with a reply when he brought his fingers to his jaw and now plucks the cigarette out of his mouth. “That’s very generous of you,” he says, voice dripping of his trademark sarcasm. He dramatically closes his eyes and rests his temple on the ball of his palm. He pauses as if he’s mulling the terms and the decision over in his head, then comes to a fast conclusion. “But no thanks.”

"I am sure that you have seen the shape your Sword of Damocles is in." As if you need to remind him again, as if it would please him at all to hear this lecture again, you go on. "The Sword is the symbol of a King; it manifests the truest image of its King’s condition." He exhales a puff of smoke with a sigh as you begin to tell him, "Your Sword will come crashing down soon."

"...That so?" He sounds bored and lazy as ever.

You know he probably tuned you out when you began using bigger words, but you still try. “Your Weismann level is already on its brink. The added burden of killing a King will undoubtedly exceed your limit. You will cause a repeat of the Kagutsu Crater tragedy. You no longer have any right to be a King.” Half of everything you’ve said probably made it in his head through one ear then exited through the other. Still, with conviction, you say it. “It’s time to step down, Red King.”

He closes his eyes again and replies, an obnoxiously blatant grin on his face. He’s amused. “I’ve never taken any action as _King_.”

The second he finishes, for some reason, you lose all control you have over yourself. You abandon that admirable self-control everyone praises you in earnest for, along with your cigarette as you let it fall from your grasp. You grab his collar, shove him down onto his back and hover above him on your knees. You can’t be sure if it’s some subconscious thing, but you feel yourself plastering on that placid expression again. You feel yourself icing up your tone, even if the way your fist trembles goes against the facade you’re trying to put on.

"There are innocent high school students here who have nothing to do with this. Your men are here too." You feel your eyebrows knit together slightly, and you bring your face closer to his to inform him you’re serious. Your hair falls onto his forehead as you look him dead in the eye. "Do you understand?"

For a second, his couldn’t-care-less front cracks, but he rebuilds it far too quickly for you to even tell into what. He drawls, “I will settle my own business while you take care of yours. Isn’t that all there is?”

Your eyes widen then speck down to the cigarette in between his lips, and for a second, you feel abhorrence for this life. You know that you two could be in a moment like this in another life, under different circumstances. _Just like this…_ You wish you could kiss him. If only he didn’t think that  _that’s all there is._

 _Petty feelings,_  you scold yourself in your head as your fist loosens around his white shirt and you let him go. You get back on your feet and readjust your glasses. “So crude. You’re beyond reason.”

He stands up as well, hands stuffing into his pockets. As if he’d expected to be called uncivilized, that smirk is back. “You didn’t think you could actually change my mind, did you? Doing things damn out of character.”

"Not really." You don’t hesitate to say it as you observe that he kept talking even with the tobacco in his mouth. You stare at the ground, not having minded the last thing he said because it’s only meant to riddle you. "I just came here to see a friend."

You should’ve looked at him, because for once, he lowered his guard and allowed his features to contort in understanding when you said the word  _friend._  Because even if you aren’t looking now, he still decides to put on the mask again, simpering in something like delight. He drops his cigarette while he watches you, puts out the small flame with the sole of his shoe then turns his back to you. “Go.”

A silence that lasts a second or two compels you. “Suoh.” You decide to give it a shot one last time. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

"I’m sure."  _He’s sure._

"Idiot," you call him under your breath, then you part.

You don’t suppose it, but your words will remain in his head for a little while.

You both go back to your second-in-commands then leave them in charge. You know you still have business with him.

The next time you meet isn’t so long after you called him a fool. 

You have to stop his raging flame with a blast. You’re aware that that isn’t enough to neutralize the blazing red sphere, but he sees the small blue ball that flies at then hits it, so he retracts.

He redirects his attention to you, bemused but casual, and sees your hand up. He acknowledges that it came from you, and he has no doubt that you held back because had you really intended to neutralize that, it would have been lethal to the surroundings.

He greets you with a smile once more. He’s happy you’re here, even if you’re carrying his unconscious clansman over your shoulder. You hadn’t hurt him and left him behind, and he would never admit it, but that means some to him.

After giving him a lingering stare, you examine the rest of the perimeter and see the Black Dog and his master and their Strain companion with a student.

"I have a grasp of the situation now. Then, we can cut to the chase." With that, you let the thin boy off your shoulder, albeit seemingly carelessly, telling him to keep quiet and watch as if he could.

"Kuro!" When his master calls him, the raven leaps the short distance and settles with them.

An advent of red flames materializes around his hand again when he’s stirred, so without thinking, without having to think, you fly forward and strike.

His defense is quick, like you know it would be, like you know it’s always been.

"Munakata," he growls as he sees you through the collision of both red and blue flames.

Whether you’ve intended it or not, this sparks war between you two and an all-out fight is suddenly bound to ensue. You both sprint through greenery, getting rid of any reservations you may still have had. Though you are grateful you’ve lead him away from the building to avoid unnecessary casualties. You know you started this fight and are taking responsibility for it.

The first open area you find beyond the small forest becomes your sparing ground.

You stare each other down.

He’s mindful of what’s coming, but he smiles and goes on anyway. “Stop it, Munakata. You’re making me start to enjoy this even though you’re not the one I’m after.”

For a moment, _you wish it were you._ The feeling of abhorrence rises in your chest again. _He trusts you and you trust him._ You know in another life, under different circumstances, it would be so ideal, that trust is established between the two of you like this. He wouldn’t kill you, he  _can’t,_ and there would be nothing to cause the fall of his Sword of Damocles. There would be nothing to consume everything he has left and push him past his limits.

A blast snaps you out of your thoughts and your staring at him after he speaks to you. You both turn in its direction and see a powerful silver-white beam and something grand emerging from it. ”That’s…!”

The Silver Sword of Damocles.

You both understand why that’s there, even as it disappears temporarily, and you both understand what’s going to happen with your clans, what course of action they are all inclined to take.

“What’ll it be? You can go help them if you like.” His tone is ambiguous. He barely means that, you know.

So you turn and push your glasses further up the bridge of your nose, because you’re conscious of at which angles you seem the most intimidating and convincing when you wish it. “And ruin the moment?”

“You’ve got a point,” he says with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “After all… This’ll be our last fight.”

You’re happy you even get a last fight with him, so you contentedly watch him take his stance to officially open this pit. You in turn draw your sword, announcing your name and your readiness for battle for formality's sake. Also because you know it would rouse him.

In no time, you’re both running through foliage again. Running away from something, running with each other, that really couldn’t matter any less. It’s like _tag_ minus the fire and the lightning and the damage you could actually inflict upon each other. But it’s a fight, not a game of tag, you realize. It’s harsh, and the abhorrence kids you, because you know in another life, under different circumstances, this could be a fun game to play between close friends, maybe lovers.

He swings his fist at you and you see his power ignite into the prettiest flames you wouldn’t concede to have ever seen, and you wonder how they would feel even if you know they’d scorch you till you’re void of blood and bone and ash. But before you give in to that random, unreasonable desire, you set up a barrier and protect yourself, a barrier that can withstand his attack no problem.

The foliage is destroyed and the trees have smoke where leaves should be, the grass is soot and whatever cement that architects were proud of has depreciated into mere rubble…

You eye his Sword and it's in even worse condition than it was a mere half hour ago, the damage is obviously taking it's toll, the attacks obviously catching up, the defense obviously wearing out…

Yet, he’s still smiling.

He feels you staring so he shrugs. “We’re not done yet, are we?”

“No,” you agree, taking your glasses off. A flying piece of debris has ruined the lens, rendered those frames obsolete. “I would say we’re just getting started.”

He watches you dispose of them and his smile becomes even more challenging. “No more time-outs from you, got it?”

“Like you would ever listen to me.” _Right._ He never listens to you.

Even as his Sword of Damocles hangs above him now, nothing about him will change. Not his convictions, not his mindsets, and definitely not the way he's always treated you.

So to let him know that you affirm his warning anyway, you fix your sword and drive forward.

Miraculously, but not surprisingly, he blocks it with a simple fist and that stops you definitely.

“What’s the matter?” he provokes. “Is that all you’ve got? I know you can do better.”

You point to your eyes; it’s a silly gesture, followed by an even sillier excuse. “It’s because I don’t have my eyeglasses.”

He chuckles noncommittally. “You’re not taking this too seriously, are you?”

You drop your hand and turn deliberate. “I cannot afford not to take things seriously when I am going up against the Red King himself.”

He scoffs and withdraws for a while. “I’ve always hated that overly-polite manner of yours. Can’t you talk like a normal person?”

You wish you could’ve held on for a while longer to that comical exchange, because now you have to explain your commitments, and it’s no more fun for you to say than it is for him to hear. “It is my responsibility as one of the Seven Kings, and my duty as the leader of Scepter 4, to defeat you.” Before you can stop yourself, you loosen your sword form and your features soften. “But personally, as Munakata Reisi… _I want to help ~~(save)~~ you, Suoh.”_

He looks concerned. You don’t know if that expression is to deride you and ask if you really think you can, or if to say he’s touched you care enough to say it once you forget you’re not supposed to. So he drops it, for your good maybe, and laughs. _“That really isn’t like you.”_

A red wave from his knuckles comes flying at you.

The clashes between you two are never repetitive. You admire his dynamics in battle; they’re unpredictable but accurate, always powerful, as if he’s hell-bent to kill you, even if you know he’s not. You would never forgive him if he goes easy on you anyway.

This protracts for a while, and you’re thankful it does. You want to revel in this moment for longer. You want to feel the way your heart threatens to burst as you exhaust your energy fighting him, the way you lose control over your emotions and just sink into the feeling of having someone so amazing see you as his equal in this kind of sparing, the heat in his attacks because you know they’ve always been like this.

The next time he swings his fist, the same silver-white beam from several minutes ago appears and divides the two of you, pushing you back.

The white-haired boy appears and immediately speaks to him. “Isn’t this the guy you’re looking for?”

A possession-like fit overcomes aforementioned white-haired boy and he chokes out, “Hey! What are you doing?! Stop—Stop it! Stop!”

“Hurry,” the youth says as he regains himself. “Only a King can kill another King.”

He’s been very intent on listening, his attention solely on this young man who claims to be the one he’s after. His expression breaks into one of genuine gratification. “Yeah, I appreciate that,” he tells him. In no time, he’s readying to swing, at another person this time, the one it’s actually meant for.

 _Oh no._ “Stop it, Suoh! Don’t do it!”

He doesn’t hear you.

You watch him gather all of his strength, all of his pent-up rage and anger, and fuel himself with the need for vengeance as he kills the Colorless King, ends the man who took one of the very few who truly believed in him away.

Suddenly, you see an array of beautiful colors: pink, then orange, then red. It’s as beautiful as vengeance itself, but only through him would you know. Admit it, you’re not attached to any of your clansmen the way he is that you would go this far to destroy anyone who meddles.

The earth beneath your feet quakes, as if it’s compensating for the fact that you aren’t shaken at all by what he’s done. The full extent of his spirit is depleted as he banishes the Colorless King to oblivion, and you’re frozen there watching. The Sword of Damocles of the Colorless King diffuses into the wind.

When the smoke dissipates, you see him again, standing now in an ugly cavity the explosion carved into your grounds. He poses there as if he knows this is where he belongs. Ironic, but you both know it: He’s literally dug his own grave.

He exhales as the last bits of his vitality as a King take forms of little crimson electric bolts all over his body. He peers up at his Sword of Damocles, despite not having to because he knows what he did and what would consequently become of it.

You can do nothing but stare. You can’t read him. Is he finally satisfied? Is he really happy this way? How long does he think it will be before it falls? How little time left do you have with him?

“Sorry… You had to get the shorter end of the stick…”

It’s an actual apology. You can tell by the way he smiles at you so sincerely as he said it. But you can’t accept it yet. Voice hardening and expression turning stern, you counter, “How dare you give me that garbage with such a peaceful look on your face. If you really feel that way, wasn’t there something you could’ve done… Before _this_ happened?!”

He closes his eyes, he feels the blow. He knows.

You close your eyes as well. Your voice just now threatened to betray your feelings, and you haven’t even figured them out yet.

“You’ve said enough… _Munakata._ ”

Your eyes open and you see him, arms outstretched as if ready to embrace his fate. No, not fate. He played it, _cheated_ it. He isn’t supposed to go this early. He isn't supposed to go this way. _He isn’t supposed to go_. You’re sad. You feel the dread creep up on you, you _know_ that was the last time he will ever say your name.

And he knows, too. That’s why he made sure you heard it. Whatever the context was is irrelevant. He had to grant you at least that.

So don’t look at him with those eyes.

Now, he looks up at his Sword of Damocles. You know it’s done for.

The red you’ve always furtively adored is fading.

Now it’s gone, and the sword is suddenly governed by gravity. It’s going to fall, destroy this island, shift topography again.

You know what you have to do, _and it hurts you_ , doesn’t it?

But you still do it. _You have to._ You’re a King. You couldn’t help him. You have to throw aside your personal sentiments (they were never supposed to get in the way) and acknowledge your professional commitments now.

The next thing you know, you’re right in front of him, your face almost as close as it was when you pushed him to the pavement and demanded he understand you. Except that he’s not looking at you, and you can’t look at him. Your eyes are closed, feigning calm, and you can feel his eyes are closed too, presenting acceptance.

You hear his Sword of Damocles gracefully crumble into dust right above the two of you, and you’re reassured you at the least of the least made it in time.

Then you hear him groan and feel the weight of his palms on your shoulders. Your chin fits onto his left shoulder and you both rest for a second.

Again, you feel it. Abhorrence for this life. You know in another life, under different circumstances, this could be a moment of intimacy, basking in the glow of each other, a moment of just the two of you in love. _But it isn’t, is it?_  In this life, it’s your last moment with him as you pierced your saber through his chest. It’s your last moment to feel him this close with the blood pouring out from the wound you inflicted. It’s your last moment together.

He mumbles his final words. You wouldn’t have ever thought they would be something of an apology. But you hear them, nevertheless. You _listen._ This is the last of his voice you will ever hear, you know. His hands fall from your shoulders, but his warmth is still there. You want to engrave how that feels into your heart. You know you'll never feel it again.

Wordlessly, you disengage your blade.

When you return to your subordinates, they’ll pump their fists with triumph and yell out in glee. When you return, they’ll surely greet you with smiles. But you wouldn’t know what they’re rejoicing about. You wouldn't know what there is to be happy about.

Right now, you don't know if he'll have to die by your hand again in another life, if you'll fall in love this time around and have those moments back the way you'd wanted them, or if you'll even find each other there, if you'll ever be lucky enough again. You don't know if you'll be born the way you are right now, as will he. You don't know if you'll have powers and become Kings again, or if you'll be ordinary people with ordinary lives.

There are countless things you don't know at the moment about life with him. About the next one or another, nor about this one. But there is one thing _you know_ about this life.

In this life, you know that you are Munakata Reisi, and you couldn’t save Suoh Mikoto.


End file.
